


Tasha Yar Rights Some Wrongs

by NervousAsexual



Series: Star Trek Characters Travel Through Time to Punish The DrumpfTruck [4]
Category: Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: All Your Faves Are Queer, Crack, F/F, Fandom Trumps Hate, Fix-It, and spoilers for the year 2018, spoilers for Skin of Evil
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-16
Updated: 2018-08-16
Packaged: 2019-06-28 11:12:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15706068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NervousAsexual/pseuds/NervousAsexual
Summary: Tasha Yar objects to her own death scene and later fights Roddenberry and Berman and Trump. Also there are lesbians. And Nichelle Nichols.Now with sources for all my angry yelling!





	Tasha Yar Rights Some Wrongs

**Author's Note:**

  * For [obscureenthusiast](https://archiveofourown.org/users/obscureenthusiast/gifts).



"Well," Armus said, "that was disappointing."

"Disappointing?" Dr. Crusher asked. "You killed her!"

"I had expected to be amused. But this... this was too easy."

"Wow," said Yar, "this entire enterprise is bullshit."

If a large blobby tar monster could look put off, Armus did so.

"Be quiet," it said. "You are dead."

"Again, bullshit." Yar got to her feet. "What a massively anticlimatic garbage plot twist."

On the far side of the slimy trail of Armus, Deanna Troi poked her head out of the shuttlecraft wreckage.

"What was the point in any of this?" Yar demanded, setting up a pace from one end of the Armus trail to the other. "Why even set up a character and then never bother to do anything with her? And if you were then going to kill that character off to have her go out in a bang, why then would you have her die in what amounts to a squib?"

Armus sighed in irritation. "A what?"

"I can explain that," said Riker, who was good for little else. "A squib is a tiny explosive device commonly used for special effects. It looks like a little stick of dynamite."

"Excuse you," Yar said coldly. "A squib does not look like my girlfriend."

Troi put her hands to her chest and sighed romantically.

"Your what?" Armus demanded. "I thought you were a woman."

"Fool," spat Yar. "I am LESBIAN."

Armus visibly recoiled. "A gay? On my planet?"

"It's more likely than you might think," said Geordi, parachuting in from orbit.

"Impossible," said Armus. "It's something we discussed, but we never got around to coming up with a way of just adding a gay character. We tried to deal with it in a more abstract science-fiction way."[1](http://www.treknews.net/2011/03/03/rick-berman-answers-questions-on-gay-characters-in-trek-enterprise-and-more/)

Yar ceased pacing. She looked from Armus to Troi and back.

"I know you," she said slowly.

"No you don't. I am an unknowable tar monster with no discernible bodily structure."

But Yar strode right up to the tar monster and ripped off his tarry mask to reveal a familiar shape with a very discernable bodily structure.

Troi ran to Yar and held on tight.

"It can't be," she said.

Yar nodded gravely. "It is."

"Star Trek creator and showrunner Gene Roddenberry," Data observed. "How unusual."

Armoddenberry grabbed his mask back and put it crookedly upon his face. "Pay no attention to the man behind the mask."

"No can do, friendo." Yar put an arm around Troi and took back the mask. "You were going to get rid of my girlfriend."

"He was going to what," said Troi.

"That's unfair." Roddenberry pouted. "I was only going to fire her. There were too many women on the set."[2](https://www.avclub.com/marina-sirtis-on-whipping-faye-dunaway-and-almost-being-1820994990)

"There were three women, Gene!"

"Right. Too many."

Yar wound up to punch him in the face, but she was too slow. Troi kicked him directly in the tar monster-groin, and he yelped and fell to the ground in a tarry heap.

The others gathered around to witness the proceedings.

"I heard he used to be a cop," said Geordi.

Crusher rolled her eyes. "Why does that not surprise me."

"ACAB," observed Data.

"We are leaving," Yar said, and scooped up Troi in her arms.

"My hero," said Troi.

"That looks really nice," Geordi said. There was just a hint of jealousy in his voice.

"It is. It's what every girl dreams of--a butch to carry her away from all of this."

Yar beamed proudly.

"But--" And here Troi gave her a look of concern "--who will carry the butch away from all of this?"

And because she was an empath she could tell that made Yar a little sad.

"I'll tell you who," said Crusher, and picked up both of them. She was so buff. She had been working out. "I will carry the butch away from all of this."

"Now me!" Geordi said. He leaped into Data's arms.

Data inclined his head in a little nod. "And I will carry the Geordi away from all of this."

"But who will carry Data and Beverly away from all of this?" Yar joked.

In response, Worf picked up both Data and Crusher.

"I thought you were on the ship," Riker said.

"No," said Worf, and indeed he wasn't.

"Come on," Yar said. She reached down and grabbed Roddenberry from his mucky mess. "I have the best idea."

Worf began to jog. He jogged forth across the planet of Vagra II. He jogged forth across space and time. He jogged to the marching chant of his people.

"Let's go, lesbians, let's go," chanted Geordi.[3](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0pwCK2pOF0o) All was as it should be. Except for the fact that a really gross Gene Roddenberry was being dragged alongside them.

They jogged onto an old shore leave planet and found the original triumverate bickering over who was going to take Chekov to a dentist appointment.

"Hi, Jews!" Geordi called. "We're lesbians!"

Kirk, Spock, McCoy and Chekov all looked up.

"Care to join us?" Yar asked them. "We're putting the Roddenberry back into the garbage can where he belongs."

Everyone looked at Roddenberry.

"You Jews have a lamentable habit of identifying those characteristics in a society that you deem positive and then taking credit for them," he snarled.[4](http://jewishjournal.com/opinion/164916/)

"Yikes," said Chekov.

And they all jogged into the past.

They jogged through the time of the Klingon conflict. They jogged through a strange and frightening alternative timeline that popped up, where a series of increasingly dumb and sexist things kept happening. They jogged through first contact, and then they kept jogging until at last they arrived in the year 2018.

"I hate this timeline," McCoy growled. At some point during all the jogging he had wound up carrying his compatriots. Kirk, Spock, and Chekov all sat complacently in his arms. "Too many damn Nazis and fascists and things catching on fire."

They paused for breath in a back yard, and all agreed that there was too much smoke and fascism around to be good for anyone's health.

"We should inform that person of the health conditions," Data said. His arms were still full of Geordi, but he nodded his head at a glamorous chubby elderly lady sitting on a nearby bench.

Yar set her girlfriend carefully down on the crunchy brown grass and approached the woman on the bench. It was, she saw to her suprise, Nichelle Nichols. Astounded to be in the presence of the face that sailed so many lesbian ships, Yar knelt and genuflected.

"What are you doing out here in the smog?" she asked.

Nichelle shrugged sadly. "I'm not sure. I've got that dementia."

"Screw dementia," Kirk said. "And not in the womanizing, dudebro way."

"Is there anything we can do?" Troi asked.

Crusher shook her head sadly. "My tricorder does many things, but it can't stop dementia."

"I got these pills that regrow kidneys," McCoy grouched. "Damn things don't even fix brain diseases. What're they good for?"

And all were quite sad. All except one.

All except Yar.

Looking upon Nichelle, she put her hands against the woman's face. A great flash of light began to glow. The theme from Deep Space Nine began to play from thin air. Flowers began to bloom all around, and with the sheer force of Gay did Yar heal Nichelle Nichol's dementia.

"My lady," Yar said, and picked up her girlfriend again. Crusher did pick her up and Worf did lift her, and all bowed to Queen Nichelle before jogging off into the distance.

"Thanks, lesbians!" Nichelle called after, and waved until they were out of sight.

Onward did the lesbians and their compatriots the Jews jog. They jogged as if rejuvenated by the presence in this timeline of Nichelle Nichols, and indeed they were. All present had a massive crush on Queen Nichelle--even Data, and he was aroace and gay.

They continued to jog, dragging Roddenberry along behind them, until at last they reached the garbage heap they sought. It was a very garbage-y garbage heap. The Trumperdinck lived there. So too did Mike Pence and a cadre of conservatives. There were many cockroaches in the garbage heap. Lots of insects, too.

"I hate this timeline," McCoy grumbled. All agreed.

"What is plan now?" Chekov asked.

Yar examined the area around the garbage heap. There was what looked like a landfill, a lot of little pipes sticking up out of the dirt to let out gasses, and a bulldozer.

"Hang on to your combadges," she said. "My best idea just got even better."

"I call it the rigged witch hunt," Troompaloompa was saying to his fellow garbage-dwellers in regard to the investigation into Russian election meddling. "And these people led it. So I revoked their security clearance. Some one turn off that noise."[5](https://abcnews.go.com/Politics/trump-cites-russia-probe-motivation-revoking-cia-directors/story?id=57212696)

The garbage-dwellers all looked at one another because they were not responsible for fixing problems. The noise should have bootstrapped itself into silence by now. But instead, the noise grew louder and louder, and suddenly a bulldozer loaded with Enterprise crew burst through the garbage heap. Roddenberry was strapped to the dozer part like a screaming, anti-semitic and misogynistic lance. Asshats flew everwhere.

The Drumpfallo, upon seeing this, leapt into his golf cart and attempted to speed away. He veered to the right. The bulldozer followed. He careened to the left. The bulldozer did the same. He attempted to lose the dozer with a series of serpentine turns, but his hands were so tiny they slipped from the steering wheel, causing the cart to slam into one of the gas pipes. He was flung from the cart and landed headfirst in a pile of used menstrual products.

"I'm gonna send the military into space," he said, and then the bulldozer ran him over.[6](https://www.washingtonpost.com/news/comic-riffs/wp/2018/08/14/president-trumps-vision-for-a-space-force-according-to-cartoon-satire/?utm_term=.6461999bd461)

When the dust had cleared the garbage heap had been smoothed nicely into the rest of the landfill, only slightly disturbed here and there where Mike Pence or Sandy Pensler were sticking up out of the ground a bit.

"That was refreshing," Yar said. She was using Roddenberry as a shovel to dig a smaller hole in which to deposit him.

All agreed that it was so.

"I can't help but feel we're forgetting something, though." Troi rubbed her chin thoughtfully.

"Riker?" suggested Geordi, still in Data's arms. "I think we might have left him on Vagra II."

"No, that's not it."

And as they stood there contemplating what on earth it could be, the answer came to them out of nowhere. Except not literally out of nowhere. For the answer was Rick Berman, and he came out of his house to see what was going on in the garbage heap where he got his crummy ideas from.

"Darn," said Troi. "That's who we forgot. What do we do with him now, Tasha? Uh, Tasha?"

But Tasha did not respond. She walked silently to Berman.

"My garbage heap!" Berman cried. "What have you done to it? Now where will I find pointless heteronormative tropes to fill my work with?"

Yar took him by the shoulders and turned him to look at her. He pouted.

"I've brought you a gift," Yar told him. "From Denise."

"From who?"

"Not from, for," Yar amended. "And this is for Denise, you reanimated scrotum."[7](https://softbutchtashayar.tumblr.com/post/176924508500/can-i-ask-you-a-very-specific-question-with-no)

And she whacked him with a giant bag of oatmeal. Then she whacked him with a giant bag of sand. Then, to be on the safe side, she whacked him as well with Gene Roddenberry.

"Intensely satisfying," she said to her friends, depositing both of the showrunners into the hole she had dug.

And everyone agreed. It was awesome.

THE END


End file.
